The Proposal, page 15
“What about Simply Stark? Things seem to be going well.”
“Half the time I don’t even know what they’re talking about. Zara’s driving me nuts, always picking apart everything I do, even though we had a great first event. We’re turning people away for our next one.”
“Then what the hell’s your problem. It sounds like this is something you could be good at.”
My eyebrows shot sky high. “Event planning?”
“What’s wrong with that? You talked about throwing all these parties in college. Who doesn’t love to drink and eat great food? If you can make it even better than the boring corporate shit I’m dealing with right now, more power to you, I’ll be the first to sign up. If I have to listen to another droning speech standing at cocktail tables, surrounded by people in suits all trying not to spill minuscule food on their ties, I’ll grab a bottle of Moët and bludgeon myself.”
“Things are going well at work...”
He shot me a wry look. “How could you tell?”
“What exactly do you do?”
“Hell if I know. I move numbers from one spreadsheet to another, generate reports, email those reports to my boss, who repackages them and sends them to his boss, until it sits in someone’s inbox to languish forever.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“At least you can see you’re affecting people. You can watch their expressions as they slam paint-filled balloons into each other’s faces, or smear marshmallows all over one another.”
“It’s a gift, what can I say.” I gave him a knowing shrug. Going into this business wasn’t even supposed to be more than a temporary stop on my way to something more, something better suited for me. Something I’d enjoy, but hadn’t I liked the late nights with Zara? Well, maybe not with her specifically, but doing the work. It wasn’t the instant gratification of the gridiron, but watching people smile and laugh when they ate food I’d picked out, and having fun at games I’d picked hadn’t been a bad thing. In fact, it had felt damn good.
Hunter emerged from the hallway. “Where’d Jameson go?”
Everest pulled a book off the shelf and flipped it open. “Babysitting duty.”
“Damn, I’ll have to text him the good news. I got us all tickets to the Without Grey concert. Jameson loves them.”
The book fell from Everest’s hand. He recovered it quickly and slipped it back into the slowly closing gap on the shelf. “Without Grey. As in Madison’s Without Grey.”
Hunter’s face fell. “Oh shit. Fuck dude, I totally forgot. I’ll cancel.”
Everest’s jaw clenched before he took one of those calming breaths the anger management consultant who had been brought in for the team after a bench-clearing brawl my first season told us to do. His eyes opened and the tension fell off his face. “No, don’t cancel. It’s fine. You guys should go.” Another deep breath. “Actually, let’s all go. It’s a concert like any other. We’ll be in a sea of many.”
“We’ll be in the front row.” Hunter winced.
Another deep cleansing breath from Everest. “Fine, the front row, but it’s not like—”
“And we’ll have backstage passes.” Hunter peeked out at Everest through one eye, his shoulders up high.
Everest stared blankly out the window behind us. “Backstage passes.”
Hunter picked up his phone. “You don’t have to go. None of us want to go.”
I raised my hand. “I want—”
August elbowed me in the stomach. “We don’t have to go, man. Jameson wasn’t in Milwaukee, but he’ll understand. He didn’t get the full details about what happened with Maddy—Madison. The rest of us haven’t listened to their music in years.”
“Except for that song last summer. It was catchy as hell.” Hunter’s smile morphed into a look of contrition at Everest’s glare. “It was all over the radio and in a couple commercials.”
“No. We’ll go. And you can listen to Without Grey as much as you need to. Madison and I are older now. It’s been four years. Water under the bridge. She’s with Without Grey and I’m living my life too. Let’s go. I’m in. Let’s do this.” Everest cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders like he was about to step into an MMA ring, completely outmatched by his opponent.
August pressed his fingers against his lips, gingerly walking toward Everest. “When’s the concert, Hunter?”
“One week.”
“We don’t have to make any decisions tonight, Everest. Sleep on it and let us know in the morning. No pressure, no promises. Whatever you decide, we’re there to back you up.”
“It would be an awesome concert, he’s—” I swallowed the words when I caught August’s glare.
“Totally up to you either way, Everest.”
“I need a walk.” He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and was gone, the door slamming before anyone could say anything.
20
Leo
The Philadelphia Museum of Art housed some of the world’s most well-known pieces of art and served as the location for the Winthorpe staff gala. The façade of the column-fronted architectural wonder was illuminated.
An oversized greenhouse-type structure took up the infamous landing near the top, where tourists from all over the world stood, pumping their arms in the air and throwing fake punches while humming “Eye of the Tiger” to themselves.
Cars pulled up along the front letting out people dressed up in business suits and cocktail gowns. I tugged at the collar of my shirt, tempted to hitch the tie before we even got inside.
Zara climbed out of one of the taxis, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her pale pink dress skimmed her knees and fit her perfectly. Not like she’d been poured into it or had it painted on, but it hugged her waist and curves, providing the slightest tease of her breasts under the conservative square neck. She was stunning.
I should’ve picked her up from her house. Greeting her curbside felt wrong. I could imagine her sitting beside me with her legs crossed and my hand resting on her knee, brushing against her smooth skin in slow circles.
Her greeting was a curt nod and a dip of the edges of her mouth.
Daydream dead. Warming up to me wasn’t the same as wanting to get anywhere near me. And why should she? She was all business and that’s what I needed to be.
Slipping her bag under her arm, she tugged and fussed with my tie, only this time it didn’t bother me at all. Was there glitter in her makeup? She had a shimmery glow to her skin. Her full lips had a hint of gloss to them, but nothing overdone.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you all dressed up.”
“It said black tie optional.” She fussed with a hemline and looked as happy as I felt to be in my suit. “We’re trying to blend in. It fits you well. Tailored?”
“There aren’t many fitted for someone built like me.”
She huffed out a laugh. “True. And you’re not going to do us any favors tonight.”
“Sorry, I forgot my shrink ray in my other pants.”
“It’ll be fine. We’ll get in. Check out their setup and include ways we’d do thing better, if they choose us for their events next year. And get out.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” I saluted her and offered her my arm, but she charged ahead, not taking it until the top of the first staircase landing.
Kathleen stood at the entrance. Her barked orders made their way directly to us.
I leaned down, whispering into Zara’s ear. “Try to at least pretend to like me tonight.”
“Don’t I always.” She tilted her chin to her shoulder, in a gesture most people would take as a loving snuggle, but I’d heard the bite in her tone.
“Of course.” I unlocked our arms and wrapped mine around her waist, tugging her in close. Leaning in, I ran the back of my finger against her cheek. Her smooth skin was every bit as soft as I remembered from our night in bed together. “Always playing the perfect, loving fiancée.”
“You forgot doting.” She made a snap bite for my finger, which I wasn’t entirely sure was playful.
Chuckling, I led us through the entrance with a wave to Kathleen and toward the bar. We were going to need it.
A woman with bright red curls stepped in front of me. “Leo Wilder? Wow, it’s really you.”
“Every freaking time,” Zara muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes, smiling at the woman. “Hi, I’m Zara. Sorry, Leo’s here with his fiancée and doesn’t have time to flirt tonight. He’s working.” Zara grabbed my hand from her back and pulled me away.
The woman’s smile faltered. “Fiancée? I didn’t know you were engaged.” She fumbled inside of her minuscule bag and pulled out her phone.
“It’s complicated,” I called out over my shoulder.
Zara’s eyebrow lifted when we made it to the modern and contemporary art wing. “It’s complicated? What happened to playing the loving couple?”
“I can’t help it if I’m recognizable. That woman grabbed her phone and probably took a picture of the ring. For all we know it’s posted on social media. I’m retired now, but that doesn’t mean people don’t still talk and start digging and asking questions.”
Her face paled. “I didn’t think about that. Sorry for overreacting.”
Another apology. Who was this woman? “Welcome to my life. And don’t worry about it. Most people don’t see the circus attached to playing pro sports.”
“What kind of circus?” She took a sip of her drink.
“After we won a game in Cincinnati, I walked into my bedroom and there was a naked woman sitting in the middle of my bed, spread eagle.”
A fine spray of champagne shot out of her mouth. At least we were far enough away from the art we only got a glare from the security guard at the far end of the room.
“Naked?”
I lifted my glass to my lips. “Naked.”
“What did you do?”
“I backed the hell out of there and called security.”
She raised a brow, skeptically. “You weren’t tempted?”
Because all every man cared about was getting laid… “If someone is batshit crazy enough to show up in a stranger’s hotel room, they’re crazy enough to do any number of things that could’ve gotten me in deep trouble with the team. I wasn’t putting my career in jeopardy for a piece of ass.”
“Crazy ass.”
“Exactly.” I clinked my glass to hers.
“Why did you retire?”
“You haven’t googled me yet?”
“No, then I’d feel like a weird stalker.”
“You aren’t already, with the way you message me almost constantly?”
“That’s for work.” She waved it away as if work communication existed in a parallel universe where your phone didn’t buzz at two in the morning, ripping you from sleep. “I don’t want to forget something and have things implode because I messed up.”
“Sometimes you have to roll with the punches when things spring up.”
“That’s why I have my roll-with-the-punches back-up-back-up plan included in every standard plan. Did you not get your copy?”
I scanned my memory. Had I missed a whole alternate plan she’d put together?
“That was a joke. I know I don’t make them often, so maybe I’m rusty.”
We walked along the perimeter of the room, not paying attention to the art, lost in conversation. Our recon work fell by the wayside as the night stretched on. Oren & Co. were old school boring; we didn’t have a thing to worry about.
Zara told me more about her little brother, Tyler and his love of superheroes and music. And asked about my time in the pros. Getting an inside peek into the world of professional sports wasn’t something I thought she’d be interested in, but her questions kept piling up and I was happy to supply her with all the stories I had.
“They made you do what?”
I took her empty glass and mine, setting them down on the tray of a passing waiter.
“Left me and another rookie with a six-figure bill.”
“Those assholes. How could they do that to you? You’re brand new, finally living your dream and they steal all that money from you.”
“It wasn’t stealing.”
“It’s dining and dashing and leaving you with the check. That’s so…fucked up.” She shook her head, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. Her outburst warmed me deep inside my chest. Her outrage on my behalf was genuine, and she barely liked me.
“It’s tradition. It was done to them, so they do it to the next group.” It had sucked at the time—hard. The check split between me and two other rookies had been a fifth of my entire salary for the year. Not everyone signed multimillion dollar football contracts, but I wasn’t going to be a statistic cited in Sports Illustrated about washed up athletes becoming destitute.
“No wonder you’re working a regular job now, and no wonder so many of those players are broke after they retire. With irresponsible spending like that, they’re lucky they don’t retire with no money at all.”
We hadn’t gone into the details of my current financial situation and now didn’t strike me as the time.
“People think everyone is set for life, but between medical and financial issues, a lot of guys never fully recover.”
“Then I’m glad you got out early.” She patted her palm against my chest, straightening my lapel.
I wrapped my arm around her back, tracing a figure eight with my thumb against the small of her back.
A hand looped around my other arm.
“Excuse—” Zara whipped around, freezing when she spotted Kathleen.
“Look at the two lovebirds cozied up in this corner.”
Kathleen’s eyes twinkled. “I’m so happy you’re here. What do you think about this for a venue?”
We exchanged lighting fast glances. Zara’s fingers tightened on my arm before she relaxed and slipped back into a relaxed posture, but no longer leaning against me like she had been before Kathleen arrived.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I’ve only run up the steps before and come on school trips. Seeing it like this is a different experience.” And I wasn’t only talking about seeing the artwork when the place was nearly deserted. Being here with Zara made everything new.
“It would make a lovely location for a special event in your future.” Kathleen had never been subtle about her dreams for our not-going-to-happen wedding. At the end of this, I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t ask for an invite and a prime spot, either in the front row or the wedding party itself.
“It certainly would, and we’ll be sure to add it to the list.”
That won us another huge smile. “I wanted to see how you two were doing. I have to go give a speech now. Seems like someone didn’t pay attention.” She rolled her eyes and walked off.
I waited until she’d left the wing. “She didn’t seem happy about that.”
Zara grabbed both my lapels, dragging me to face her. There was a look of crazed excitement in her eyes. “It was in the event debrief. She said she didn’t want speeches.”
“So why’s she agreeing to do it? She’s the boss.”
“It gives her the ammo she needs to choose us. She’s letting them hang themselves.”
Zara held her hand up and I gladly took the high five, wrapping my hand around hers. “Let’s scope this thing out and see if there’s anything we can make better for our next event.” Her switch had flipped into seek and destroy mode now she’d smelled blood in the water. Would the same thing happen once this was finished and we went head to head?
“Are these bales of hay supposed to be their way of ripping off our event?” Zara ducked her head low with her gaze darting around the enclosed space we’d walked past when we came into the museum. Her face scrunched up and her lips were pinched tight.
“There was an attempt.” I laid my hand on her arm.
“A shitty, second rate attempt. Did you see these deconstructed s’mores?” She held up a spoon with crumbled graham cracker flakes, a bit of chocolate barely bigger than a chocolate chip and an unknown white substance balanced on top.
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s a marshmallow foam. Who the hell would want to eat a s’more like this?” She shoved the mini mountain of deconstructed s’more sadness into my mouth.
Plucking the spoon out, I didn’t have any other choice but to chew and swallow the ‘food’. “You could’ve warned me first before going here comes the airplane on me. And that’s terrible.”
“I know. I already had one.”
Containing my laughter in the face of her furtive glances and seething voice was the most fun I’d had all night. I covered it with a cough, happy her ire wasn’t directed at me for a change.
“Does this mean you’re ready to go, now you’ve seen they’re no match for us?”
“Just a little bit longer,” she said over her shoulder before setting out on an even longer recon mission.
I grabbed another drink—at least there was an open bar—and observed the room. It was stiff backs and stilted conversation even the free-flowing booze couldn’t help.
A couple walked up to the bar beside me. The man placed their drink order.
“How much longer do we have to stay? Let’s leave now.”
“It wouldn’t look good if we did.”
“Can you set a timer? My feet are killing me in these heels. If we wanted to come out at night I’d have rather done a date night, not some work thing. At least the other event got us out of a day of work.”
“Their food was better.”
“Can we get a cheesesteak on the way home?”
He handed over her drink. “Absolutely.”
These whiners were our competition? If we hadn’t already had confirmation, this was all I needed.
We had this in the bag.
21
Zara
